


Constant Changes

by succubus_barbie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Violence, Eventual Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, F/F, F/M, anti-captain swan, begins with captain swan, mentions of swanfire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-27 20:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5063830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/succubus_barbie/pseuds/succubus_barbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan, the young mother of Henry, resides in Boston and struggles with her husbands violent outbursts. Can her son's teacher, Regina Mills help her?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Back again, I've had this idea in my head for months and decided to actually try to do it now :'D As always I strive off your comments to help me improve my writing.  
> Many thanks.
> 
> (I do not own Once Upon a Time or any of it's characters).

A bruised blonde laid crumpled on the floor. Wincing green eyes slowly opened as she awoke from her unconsciousness. From this angle she could easily see Henry's comics and toys messily stuffed under the couch. _Henry_. A series of expletives ran through the young woman's head as she was prompted to think productively, she strained her body to look up at the clock above the door; time: half-seven, Henry was due back around eight from their neighbour, Ashley's. The mother of Alexandra - the sweet six year old girl who Henry was friends with - lived in one of the downstairs apartments and often had the seven year old, shaggy haired brunet over for dinner. The blonde looked around the small open planned kitchen/living room in search for the owner of the fist-shaped print on her abdomen, when she noted that the room was clear also noting the empty bottle of Captain Morgan on the kitchen counter, she grunted while trying to hoist herself off the ground, using the back of the couch as leverage. Now standing up, the blonde let out a slow and strained breath of air as she tried to coax herself to the bathroom to clean herself up before Henry came back. The young woman stumbled forward, her legs still a bit shaky from the attack despite it occurring so regularly nowadays; she leaned on furniture as she moved for support. As she got to the narrow hallway the troubled green eyed woman was forced to walk the rest of the small distance to the bathroom without anything to lean on, the path was too small for any furniture apart from a few family pictures on the wall, so it was a walk or crawl option and she'd tried to crawl once before which was surprising worse and left her drained and crying. Come on. One more step. For Henry. Was the mantra circling through the woman's head on repeat. Taking in a deep breath, the woman pushed her upper weight forward so that she fell towards the doorframe to the bathroom.

She stood there for a few minutes trying to catch her breath, pushing herself forward again she found herself leaning over the sink, both hands on the side of the appliance as she steadied her shaking legs. Her eyes originally avoided her reflection in the medicine cabinet above the sink, but after a quick 3-2-1 countdown that she whispered to herself, she stood staring back at herself, her eyes were quickly drawn to a gash in the top right of her forehead approaching her hairline. The woman suddenly felt nauseous. She furrowed her brows. He always left her face untouched. She thinned her lips when realisation struck her that the bloodied scratch was probably from when she hit the couch on the way down. _So it wasn't really his fault_. The woman’s eyes glazed over as she began to remember the previous incident.

\------------

Blue eyes stared at green ones as the handsome brunet man sat across from the blonde, waiting for a response. The blonde raised her eyebrows in confusion, “Sorry? What?”

“I said, I want the boy to take my name” the man grunted as he ate his dinner

“You want Henry… to be called Killian?” the blonde queried as her brows started to knit together, she’d had a long ass day at work so initially she wasn’t really listening to her partner.

“Christ, lass, you’re not with it today, are you? Jones. I want to change Henry’s last name to Jones”

The woman looked down at her food and sighed, “Killian, we’ve talked about this. I kept my surname in remembrance of my past; it's Henry's past too. I want him to keep it ”

“I know you said something like that when we got married, but love it’s abnormal for a boy not to have his father’s name”

This conversation was hitting the blonde like a freight train, she was damn near exhaustion, Henry started school again tomorrow after an extensive summer and Killian was rambling on about some shit that she only half listened to, so the woman couldn't help what next slipped out of her mouth,

"But you're not his father, Neal was"

In reality the concept was simple, everyone knew that Henry wasn't Killian's because the blonde had only met him around two years ago when her son was 5 years of age. But somewhere across the line Killian had developed an infatuation about Henry, talking about the boy as if he were a possession, which he often did about Emma too. The blonde didn't know whether it was because her current husband didn't have much of a family apart from them, or whether it was because Henry actually bared more of a resemblance to Killian than herself with his dark hair and charm. Either way she knew that Killian would never harm him. Emma would never let that happen. She wasn't stupid and her son was the thing she loved most in the world, so although she would be cautious nowadays after Killian's newfound temper arouse, whenever her husband was in the room with Henry his whole demeanour changed and he was back to the caring man she fell in love with. But whenever their past without him was mentioned or more specifically, her previous partner Neal, a switch flicked inside Killian, such as times like now.

He abruptly stood up, his chair screeching across the floor as he paced back and forth. "How dare you, I care for that kid! I work my ass off to provide for this family and this is how you repay me? Cutting remarks about his fucking biology?"

_Fuck, Swan. You've done it again. Round of applause, you're an idiot._

The blonde followed after the man, mistaking his controlling desires with fretting and exclusion, this was her first mistake. The second? She placed her hand on his shoulder for reassurance. Before she could even speak he'd hit her. It wasn't aimed anywhere near her face so she hadn't seen it coming. It was as if all the air escaped from her lungs and she was left gasping as she stumbled backwards towards the couch. And then everything went black.

\------------

Now she was standing at her bathroom mirror, her hand lightly ghosting over the gash on her head. She bit her lip lightly as tears trailed down her pale face. The blonde quickly washed her face; blood and her salty tears running down the drain, she then opened the cabinet and proceeded to take an Advil to numb the pain that was overtaking her body. Remembering the time and all of the things she needed to complete before her son returned home she hobbled back into the living room, the pain still there but dulled down slightly with her constant thoughts that when her baby boy was home she could sleep.

Putting the furniture back into place, throwing out the empty alcohol bottle, and piling the dishes into the sink promising herself she'll get up early enough to clean properly when everything didn't hurt as much. The blonde took a deep breathe momentarily proud of herself to restore some order in her life. There was soon knocking on the door and the sound of giggles and squeals from two small children signalling the return of her son from her neighbours. The young woman smiled softly at the innocent sounds of Henry, he was happy here and things were a lot easier money wise in comparison to when it was just the two of them. Some of the conditions they lived in, and the things she had to do to prevent that from happening again sent chills down her spine. Henry deserved this life: loved, supported, happy, she would just have to sort out the shit with her husband, the thought of what she'd done wrong to cause all of this passed her mind. Opening the door the blonde found herself being smiled at by her neighbour Ashley, Alexandra in tow as Henry threw himself at his mother in the best attempt of a bear hug a seven year old could give. However, the sharp wince of pain that came from the blonde sent the boy into confusion as he backed up slightly, looking up at the blonde with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you alright, mama?", he spoke softly, scared that he was too rough with his hug to his mother.

Placing a hand on her son's shoulder for reassurance, and quickly glancing up at Ashley to make sure she didn't seem to realise her situation; which luckily seemed true as the only expression that passed Ashley's face was concern instead of the pitying look that came with knowledge that she so often worried about.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Just a migraine, nothing a good nights sleep can't fix".

The boy nodded slowly, happy that he wasn't the direct cause of her obvious discomfort but still worried about the state of his mom.

"Well we won't keep you standing here any longer", Ashley stated with a half smile, "I hope you feel better soon, see you at school tomorrow Henry"

"Bye Henry! Bye Emma!", the little girl at Ashley's side chimed up with a wide smile showing her the gaps in her teeth. The blonde and the young brunet both smiled and waved, saying similar farewells as their two friends turned to return to their own home.

Getting Henry to bed was easy, seeming the few hours he spent playing with Alexandra had tired him out as it luckily did most evenings. Laying down beside her son Emma softly sung him to sleep, a routine his birth father used to do that she had continued after he has passed away. Running a hand threw his brown locks, she pressed her lips to the top of his head, whispering into the silent room, "I love you so much Hen, and I'll put up with anything to make sure you live a good life", knowing where you're going to sleep each night was left unsaid. A tear ran down the blondes contorted face as she remembered the harsh times they managed to survive through, there was no way Emma was letting her baby boy have to live like that again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Apologies for any mistakes: writting at 1am on my phone seems to have this effect on me]. 
> 
> Since I know that it is not only me who is in emotional turmoil after the shit show that is Swan Believer in the last episode, I decided to tone down the angst in this chapter and fit in some fluffy mother and son time.

Soft footsteps slowly padded through the living room as Henry Swan attempted to locate his mother, when he spotted her already in the kitchen cooking breakfast he took residence on one of the kitchen chairs, rubbing his eyes to try to awake himself fully from slumber.

"Hey little man, nice timing", Emma laughed throwing bacon and eggs onto a plate already accommodating a bagel before giving it to her son.

"Mooom", Henry groaned as he reached forward to grab cutlery, "I'm basically eight, hardly a ''little' man"

Emma laughed again and ran a hand through her son's dark mop of hair, "Whatever, kid. Are you excited for your first day back?"

The very fact that her son was nodding (unable to speak due to the large amount of bagel he just stuffed in his mouth) was a topic not even nature vs nurture could explain; the blonde herself hated school when she was younger and eventually dropped out when she was 17, to later become pregnant with Henry at 19. Neal was very similar to herself having hated school and dropping out also at 17 but a year before Emma, Killian had completed his high school career and instantly joined the navy but never seemed to encourage Henry to work as Emma did, always making comments about how it was unnecessary due to his young age.

The blonde sat opposite her son, observing him with pride as she remembered all the previous 'first days' of school. When Henry first joined Storybrooke elementary - only a few months after they moved in with Killian - he cried his eyes out, clinging to Emma as if his life depended on it. That was when he saw Alexandra across the room sat an empty table building something out of those overly large lego pieces, Emma had recognised the angelic looking blonde from their local park and knew that the two children were at least familiar with each other. She remembered encouraging Henry to talk to her, knowing that Henry wasn't shy with conversing with people, it was in fact one of his many talents; the little boy once placed down from his mother's arms had totted over bravely still letting out the odd sniffle, but sooner than later the two little ones were busy in conversation and laughing merrily together, leaving Emma watching proudly at the sideline of the room. That's when Ashley had rushed over to Emma in complete shock and newfound adoration in Henry in drawing her daughter out of her introverted mannerisms; apparently the small girl was practically mute unless speaking to her parents, which was hard to believe the way she was now beaming at Henry as they attempted to build some sort of tower? Mountain? Abstract statue of a giraffe? So on that day not only did the children form a tight friendship that would last for years, so did their mothers.

However, today was going to be different than the usual first day's as Henry was going to be moving up a year, or more like return to the year he was supposed to be in. Seeming before they moved in with Killian, their living arrangements were more than questionable, Henry was never in a permanent preschool. The school's headmaster had suggested that Henry would stay behind a year when he first joined in order for him to have an equal chance of success due to more stable learning approach, but Henry had proved to everyone that he was more than capable to be moved up a grade due to being top of his class in all his subjects, and having an extraordinary reading capability - for a seven, "nearly eight" year old, making Emma the proudest mom in the world. The blonde had to admit she was quite worried though, not for her son's grades because she sure as hell knew he was bright, but because this would be the first time in years that he would be without his best friend. Henry didn't have trouble making friends, he was an extremely polite and talkative boy, but that didn't mean he wasn't shy at times when out of his comfort zone. Nevertheless, Henry seemed to be putting on a brave face for his mother, and Emma was praying that smile would still be visible when she would collect him later in the day. After finishing breakfast, realising the time and then running around the house like madmen trying to get ready for school, the two left the house to start Henry's adventure.

Rushing into the classroom with a whole five minutes spare (admittedly with a small victory dance from both the Swan's when they reached the school gate), Henry realised that this might be a whole lot scarier than he originally planned and Emma noticed the change of his demeanour instantly. Looking down at her son, his eyes wide with fright and mouth slightly agape as he stared at the large group of children who all seemed to know each other, Emma seemed to notice the parallel between now and the flashback she had earlier, luckily without the tearstained and snotty version of Henry hidden in the crease of her neck. The blonde ignoring the fact that Henry would probably find it patronising, crouched down so she was looking him directly in the eye.

"Look Hen, I promise this won't be as scary as you think. You're the greatest kid I know and these guys would be lucky to be your friend. So go in there, enjoy yourself and knock 'em dead. Alright?" Emma spoke softly, wide eyed trying to talk as enthusiastically as possible.

Henry grinned, "I'm the only kid you know, but thanks mom. Love you"

Emma gave her son a friendly push on the back, encouraging him to follow the small crowd of other children in his year as they piled into a cloakroom to hang up their coats and bags. The blonde watched him nervously, no longer worried if he would be able to cope, but if she could. She understood he was only going to be away for a few hours a day but Henry was her son, her pride and joy, and she was going to miss him terribly. Nevertheless, Emma smiled gently at the scene, small and happy children all buzzing with energy and excitement, content with Henry's new surroudings she turned in her heel and followed the rest of the parents out of the school.

Everyone back in the classroom was brought out of their emotive haze as a melodic voice, loud enough to be heard over the masses of noisy children, beamed through the room.

"Good morning class, if you could all sit down at a table, please. My name is Miss Mills and I'll be your tutor for the year".


	3. Chapter 3

"Good morning class, if you could all sit down at a table, please. My name is Miss Mills and I'll be your tutor for the year";

  
and then the room went silent in obvious compliance, apart from the sound of chairs being moved with the pupils in class taking their places. Henry would have seen this himself if he wasn't currently stuck in a cloakroom. The attempt to find the last remaining coat hook took longer than anticipated seeming he was last to arrive, and the state of said cloakroom he was stood in was hardly helping the situation. Ridiculously large coats that looked like they belonged in some Canadian ski resort took up the entire perimeter of the wall. The benches sat underneath weren't so nicely decorated either; rucksacks, messenger bags, lunch boxes - the whole enchilada - strewn all over the seats to the floor.

  
Henry stood in midst of the chaos slowly blinking until the reality that he had to quickly find where to place his things in this bomb site hit him. The nightmare of the situation made him physically cringe as if he'd smelt something foul. Where in reality the room smelt like crayons, which Henry found strangely comforting. And there was that voice again, obviously talking to the class due to its kind tone, but the now frustrated brunet was unable to hear anything clearly because someone had shut that darn door on him. The boy sighed, school was so much easier with Alex by his side. This simple task would have been exactly that, never in his wildest dreams would he be stuck in a cloakroom not knowing what to do with his things if his trusty best friend was there, but here he was stressing over coat hooks alone.

  
Deciding just to dump his favoured backpack (bar the pencil case he quickly removed) under one of the benches; Henry was now left with the dilemma of when or better yet how to leave this stupid, now overly familiar cloakroom. The female teacher, whoever she may be, now sounded more into conversation, taking fewer breaks between her sentences leaving Henry in a pickle on how he could sneak out back into the classroom without looking like an idiot, and preferably without the teacher noticing. He crept slowly until he reached the door and carefully turned the door handle, trying to avoid any squeaking noises as he opened the door slightly; inwardly cursing his mother's socially awkward nature that had apparently passed onto him.

  
Everything was going so well; he could hear the woman speak about what lessons she will teach, and mention the few other teachers that would come into the class to teach other things. The voice spoke of giving out exercise books and Henry saw his chance, she'd turn to get the books and he'd sneak back in. A plan that came to a halt when the boy leant too much weight against the door, sending him forward into the room in an awkward hop, skip, jump motion as he attempted to avoid tripping over his own feet and having his face acquainted with the floor. Suddenly all eyes were on him, especially the curious glare from the tall brunette standing directly in front of him.

  
"Hi", Henry squeaked with the Swan signature awkward wave to his teacher, although at the strapping age of seven - nearly eight years old, Henry would argue it was not a squeak. Something more masculine. A squark? Whatever it was sent a ray of giggles over the rest of the class at the somewhat uncouth display.

  
Dark brown orbs looked down and scanned him quickly over a pair of thin, black rimmed glasses, a singular eyebrow raised, "and who might you be?".

  
A small arm was extended in order to greet his new acquaintance with a handshake, "Henry Swan, nice to meet you, Miss...?"

  
"Mills. Miss Mills", the brunette visibly smiled at her student's good manners and charm which often didn't come hand in hand with children his age, "and may I ask why you are late to my lesson, Henry?"

  
The younger brunet grimaced at the memory and pointed towards the cloakroom which will inevitably haunt his dreams, "Apparently me and closed doors don't get along that well"

  
Miss Mills lowered her voice into a hushed tone while giving him a kind smile that told him he was off the hook. "Understood", she then proceeded to clear her throat before announcing to the class, "In order to ensure that your fellow peers are happy and safe we will help to make sure everyone is comfortable and more importantly not alone".

  
She received chants of "Yes miss" throughout the room before she pointed Henry towards a free chair at the front of the class, but a few desks away from her own.

  
"Now, carrying on. How about some introductions from all of you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little something to prove that im not dead


End file.
